With a Heart of Hatred
by The-Onyx-LoLita
Summary: Though their lives at Hogwarts have long since come to an end, that does not mean that the troubles they faced have done the same. Draco approaches the newly elected Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger, with an urgent matter that simply must be brought to her attention. A new darkness has come to light, and it shall bring with it numerous problems that the duo must solve together.
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger-Weasley hurriedly pushed her daughter, Rose, towards Platform Nine whilst she dragged her youngest, Hugo, reluctantly in tow. "It's almost ten to eleven," She grumbled under her breath as she struggled to maintain a steady breathing pattern. "I have never been late for this train."

"Well, I am not you," Rose snapped back with a pout, and rather ironically so, considering the fact that she was a near-spitting image for her mother, but with her father's hair. As she neared the bricked wall that contained the entrance for their desire platform, she sighed and turned back to her mother, "I'm sorry," She mumbled, "I am just stressed."

Hermione gave her an understanding smile before she looked over her shoulder to where a couple of large, muscled men stood and watched over her. She then turned her attention back to her children and gave her daughter a pat on the shoulder before she ran through the wall between platforms nine and ten.

Her son complained and whined as he dug his heels in and refused to move forward, which only added to her exasperated state.

"Hugo, please!" She hissed as she nervously caught the gaze of many on-lookers as her eyes darted back and forth between them, "We need to go through, or else Rose will leave us behind."

He reluctantly complied and started to drag his luggage trolley behind him before his little legs broke into a sprint as both he and his mother found their way onto the fabled Platform 9¾.

Hermione paused for a moment as she took a deep breath and lovingly looked at the Hogwarts Express before her and her family. That train had taken her to the school where she had formed some of her fondest memories, and it still made her heart flutter whenever she saw it. Despite the dark events that she had also lived through at Hogwarts, she tried her best to cling onto the happy and warm ones, though she also acknowledged that the hardships she had been forced to face at a young age had shaped her into the strong witch she had become. With a contented sigh, she turned to Rose and gave her a tight, one-armed hug. "Be sure to write whenever you can," She whispered into her ear as she squeezed her tightly.

Rose blushed as the embarrassment from her mother's affection consumed her, "I promise I will." She replied with a smile before she shrugged off the hug, "I can see Albus," She suddenly gushed before she ran to the train and dragged her luggage behind her, "I'll see you at Christmas!"

Hermione's brows furrowed as she waved and watched her daughter leave her behind, but also shun the boy she had claimed to be so eager to spend time with.

"Do I have to go now?" Hugo asked as he started to pout and tears filled his eyes, "I don't know if I have everything I need, and I'm…" He swallowed hard to stop himself from crying, "I'm scared."

"You are going to do fine," She informed him as she crouched before him, "You are going to be a great wizard, like all those in your family before you." She then cocked her brow and head to the side, "What do you think you have left behind now?"

He shrugged and pulled on the cuff of his jumper, "I was worried about my quills… And my books… And parchment."

She smiled and pulled her son into her arms, "We have already checked for each of those things three times, but just to make sure, I want you to send me an owl as soon as the train has left in…" She tilted her wrist towards her and read the time on the face of the watch she had strapped upon it, "About five minutes." She then patted him on the shoulder and wiped away his tears, "You had better get going before the Express leaves without you."

A boy with platinum blond hair dashed past the two of them in a flurry and a panic before he stumbled up the steps of the locomotive.

"Scorpius!" His equally-blond father shouted from behind Hermione, "I swear, that boy will be the death of me." He sighed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. His grey eyes were filled with sorrow and adorned with dark-circles and a redness that his forced smile could not hide.

Hermione smiled as she turned back to the flustered Draco Malfoy, "I often feel like that these days," She admitted as she watched her son clamber up the metal steps. She then grimaced and sighed, "I am sorry about Astoria, by the way. We never really interacted much but, you have my condolences."

Draco sniffed and nodded, "Thank you," He managed in a hoarse whisper, "I appreciate it." He then sniffed again and hastily blinked back tears before he cleared his throat and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I was actually hoping to find you today for something other than your sympathy."

Hermione quickly glanced up to the train, then back to the dishevelled and gaunt man in front of her, "What was it?" She asked as she started to feel concerned and a knot formed in her stomach.

His eyes darted towards the men that had followed her onto the platform. "I don't think I can tell you here." He whispered before he sent a sharp nod in their direction.

She looked over her shoulder to where the tall, cloaked men stood, "There aren't many places I can go without them following me," She hissed, "it comes as part of being the Minister of Magic."

Malfoy grunted and swept his hair from his face, "I suppose that is to be expected." He then sent a sharp nod her way, "Congratulations on that promotion, by the way."

The train's whistle sounded throughout the station and caught the attention of all the waiting parents.

"Thank you." Hermione replied bluntly as threw her arm into the air and waved to the children that she had on the train.

Rose quickly waved back from the compartment she shared with her waving younger brother, whose eyes had become red from the tears he had been trying to withhold.

Draco forced a smile for his son as he left, but it was an empty one, "Is there anywhere that an important woman such as yourself could speak to me without your guards?" He inquired.

She shook her head, "I can only have peace in my place of residence…" She whispered back, "Is this really an urgent –"

"– Yes!" He quickly responded with an edge of desperation in his voice, "You have no idea just how much."

Somewhat surprised by his outburst, she gazed upon him with wide eyes and a slack jaw for a few seconds before she managed to compose herself and form a reply. "Then you and I shall have to have a meeting – in a public place." She then looked over her shoulder once again towards her bodyguards, "Somewhere where they shall be forced to give me some space if I ask them…"

"Name it," Draco blurted before he swallowed hard.

Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose, then closed her eyes and bowed her head, "The Three Broomsticks." She said definitively, "Does this evening at six o'clock work for you? Sunday evening is always a busy one."

The man eagerly nodded, "Absolutely, I shall see you there." He then forced his hands into his jacket pockets and sprinted towards the wall within which he disappeared.

She looked round at the gawking faces that surrounded her before she rubbed the sweat from her brow and made a hasty retreat from the station.

The men that followed her everywhere she went had to jog to keep up with her, and voice their complaints as they did so.

She came to a sudden stop and sighed as she stepped outside the station and back into the muggle world she had left behind years ago.

Cars drove by, birds chirped in the trees and children played happily on their last day summer holidays before they had to return to their muggle schools. Their life was so ordinary – so untouched by the world of magic – and a small part of her missed that. She knew that she could never return to it, that she had no ties to the muggle world after she had wiped her parents' memory, but it was something that she longed for so desperately.

Though, perhaps it wasn't the muggle world she craved, but the comfort that she had felt when she had been in it with her parents – for at that moment, she felt so very lost.

"I am going home," She announced to the men behind her, "You have the rest of the afternoon off, but I shall be partaking in a meeting at the Three Broomsticks tonight at six. I expect you to be there."

They turned to each other and – though evidently confused – did as she instructed.

After she had made sure that they were gone, she walked over to a shadowed area away from prying eyes, pulled her wand from the inside pocket of her jacket before she disapparated.

Moments later, Hermione stood by the wooden gate of her home and sighed. The house that she and her family shared could only be described as beautifully quaint. When they had first moved there, it had been one of the happiest moments of her life, behind the birth of her children and her marriage. But, as she stood outside it once again, it was as though a large weight had fallen into the pit of her stomach. Her own home no longer brought her joy.

With a sigh, she pushed the gate open – which caused its rusted hinges to creak – before she continued down the path towards the front door that she unlocked with a muggle key. "I'm home," She called to a seemingly empty house, "Hugo was upset to go, as we expected…" Her voice trailed off as she removed her coat and saw her husband slumped in the armchair in their living room. "Are you awake?" She asked before she took hesitant steps towards him.

Ron Weasley had apparently ignored every word his wife had said to him as he remained slouched in his chair, with a bottle of alcohol in his tightly clenched fist.

"You've been drinking again," She scolded before she tried to snatch the bottle from him, "We've talked about this."

He yanked his hand away and cradled the liquor as though it were a precious baby, "I can drink whatever and _whenever_ I _want_." He mumbled in slurred words, "If I hadn't lost my bloody job, I be like this!"

"And if you hadn't turned up to work drunk _every day_, then maybe you might still _have_ a job!" She snapped back before she turned to walk towards the kitchen, "I thought you were getting better…"

He managed to push himself up into a standing position before he swiped the whiskey glass from the end table beside him and stumbled towards Hermione, "I am fine…" He retorted as he nearly fell into her arms.

"You are not!" She shouted with tears in her eyes, "You are anything but fine. You are drunk before midday, and you shouldn't be."

He upended the bottle and emptied the last drops left within it into the glass as he shook his head and grumbled incoherently before he formed a proper retort, "Of course, Minister of Magic, you always know what should and shouldn't be, don't you?" He pressed the glass to his lips and downed the contents in one, "Of course, it's a perfect job for you. You get to tell everyone else what to do _all_ the time. But remember that, when you're here…" His words disappeared into an inaudible whisper as his eyes glazed over.

"I'm just your wife, right?" She grumbled through gritted teeth, "Are you trying to tell me that I should know my place, Ronald Weasley?!"

He swayed back and forth for a few moments before he looked at her with unfocused eyes, "Yes." He replied with drunken confusion.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she watched the man she loved wander the tiled room in front of her like the lost zombie he had become. It was no secret that their marriage had hit a rough patch, one that it didn't look like they were going to get out of without some help, but she didn't let anyone know just how bad it had become. She'd managed to hide the worst of it from Rose and Hugo, but it had been hard.

Whilst his drinking problems had started before he had lost his job, they had only intensified after. No matter how much she had tried to help him, or how much she had done to try and make him happy again, she just felt like it would never be enough.

Almost as though it was a reflex action, she lifted her right hand into the air with an open palm and slammed it across the cheek of her inebriated husband. "How dare you!" She scolded through tears, "I have tried so hard to keep this marriage alive, I've done everything that I can think of. I had hoped that if you wouldn't try to get clean for me, then you would for our children."

He rolled his eyes, "Of course, _you_ are the one who put in all the effort…"

"I am," She cried, "You have given up on me, on us, and on your _family_!"

With a shout in anger, he threw the glass in his hand against the wall behind his wife where it smashed into a thousand little pieces. "There is nothing left to give up on!" He snapped, "We have been finished for a while now, the _only_ reason I am still here is because of Rose and Hugo."

Hermione sniffed as salty tears cascaded down her cheeks and she pulled the shard from the broken glass out of her cheek. "I am painfully aware…" She mumbled whilst blood oozed onto her fingertips.

Ron's face dropped and his mouth fell slack as he looked at the mess and pain he had caused for the woman he was supposed to love. "Oh Hermione," He blubbed through his own tears, "I'm so sorry." He stepped forward to hold her in his arms, but she pushed him away and strode in the opposite direction.

"Just, clean up the mess?" She asked in a subdued tone before she started to ascend the stairs.

He nodded, "Of course," He replied before he hastily retreated to fetch the dust pan and brush.

The Minister stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door behind her before she leant on the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The woman that looked back at her was tired, covered in tears with blood dripping down the right side of her face, but she also had the eyes of a determined woman. Whilst it looked like the life she had planned for herself had started to unravel, she knew that she would cling to it if there was only one thread left. And now she had something new to capture her attention – whatever if was that Malfoy had considered to be so urgent when they had met earlier that day.

With a deep sigh, she splashed water on her face and washed the fresh wound before she started to prepare herself for whatever it was that lie ahead for her.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione shivered as she stood outside the Three Broomsticks in the frigid night air whilst she rubbed her hands together and became increasingly impatient. It started to rain as she waited for the man she was supposed to meet. She craned her neck in an attempt to read the clock face on the tower, but the angle at which it had been constructed made it impossible for her to read it – though it would have been difficult to have seen through the rain that had begun to attack her face. Despite the fact that the drops were large and falling with force, she was still able to see the men who acted as her shadows through them, which made her heart sink a little. She just wanted to have a moment to herself for once – just a little bit of quiet in her head and in her life before she had to return to the hectic schedule that she had lined up for herself.

A man in a dark coat appeared to be walking towards her, and her heart started to beat harder in her chest with the anticipation of whom it might be.

He stomped over the wet, puddle-laden ground at his feet, and then continued on his way – which was straight past her and towards Hogsmeade station.

She let out the breath she had been holding, and then sighed deeply as disappointment washed over her. "Why am I so nervous about this?" She asked herself as she continued to rub her hands together. She was truly confused as to why she felt the way that she did. It was as though she had both butterflies and a knot in her stomach simultaneously. She tried to convince herself that it was nothing serious, just two old classmates meeting for a Butterbeer, but she failed to do so. All she could think about was the fact that it _must_ have had something to do with their children. Was Rose causing problems for Scorpius after what her father had told her the previous year? If that was so, then she would have to do something about it. Hermione knew that Draco had turned his life around, that he had started to be more accepting of other people – muggles, muggle-borns and purebloods alike – and that he was raising his son to be that same, so the prejudice that Ron had felt towards him was something that still angered her. Yet another thing that they had fought over in the past year.

She laid her head back against the wall behind her and let the rain drip into her unruly hair. If only her teenage-self could see her now – arguing with her best friend left, right and centre and feeling anticipation at the prospect of meeting the school bully. How times had changed.

Just as the thought entered her head, the image of the man she had been waiting for entered her field of vision.

He gave her a feeble wave and then gestured towards the inn's entrance, "Shall we go inside?" He asked in a croaky voice.

She nodded and smiled before she looked over towards her guards, "Please, it's freezing out here!"

A small smile of his own played on the corners of his mouth at her words before he rushed forward to open the door for Hermione before she can do so herself.

She raised an eyebrow and chuckled under her breath, "I don't remember you knowing how to open doors for people when we were at school."

He shrugged his shoulders before he ushered her into the building, "I don't think I did – it's something that I learnt in later life." Once inside, he allowed himself to take a deep breath as a content expression falls upon his face, "I haven't been here since our trips back at Hogwarts."

She smiled at him and nodded her head, "I think I've only been here a couple of times in the past twenty years, which is far less than I would have liked."

The two of them walked over to a corner booth and take their seats whilst shiftily looking over their shoulders for the wizards that acted as Hermione's protection.

Draco suddenly stood from his seat and rested his elbows on the table as he leaned towards his companion for the night as he asked her what she would like to drink.

With a forced grin, she replied with her order before he left for the bar, and surveyed his surroundings with every step he took. Once he was far enough away, she took a deep breath and started to rummage in the handbag that she had brought with her. After a few moments of intense searching, she pulled out a compact mirror and checked her reflection in it. She brushed away a few stray hairs that had escaped from her tight ponytail and made sure that she didn't look as frozen and bedraggled as she felt before tilting the mirror towards her babysitters.

One of them had left their table on the opposite corner of the inn to follow Malfoy to the bar, while the other still remained seated on his wooden bench. He didn't even attempt to hide the fact he was watching her every move as his gaze remained fixed upon her, no matter where she moved herself to. Considering the fact that almost every table in the room had people being seated around it, she and her companion would at least have a small amount of privacy from them as it would have been hard to be heard over the chatter. She had momentarily considered going to the Leaky Cauldron, but since Hannah Longbottom had turned over her lease and started her job at Hogwarts, it had neither felt like the same establishment nor pulled in the custom that it used to at its peak.

She sighed and shook her head as she returned her mirror to her bag. If only her teenage-self could see her now, she would cringe at the fact that she was sharing a table with her childhood bully.

During her musing, Draco came back with two tankards of Butterbeer in hand and sat down in the corner booth beside Hermione. "I hope it's as warming as I remember," He mumbled as he placed them down on the table, "But I don't remember them being this expensive!"

She chuckled and pulled the tankard in front of her into her hands, "You're telling me." She muttered to herself before she took a sip.

Malfoy stretched one of his hands out to do the same, but studied Hermione's face, "How did you do that?" He asked whilst he pointed towards the cut on her cheek.

She tapped it with the tip of her finger and shrugged, "It's nothing, I just scratched myself by accident."

"Well, its easily fixed," He mumbled, then reached into his inside jacket to pull out his wand and placed the end of it against the cut, "Episkey."

The skin around the wound pulled together and healed over to form a smooth, blemish-free area.

As though he were admiring his handiwork, he dragged his finger over the patch where the slice had once been, "There, good as new. Though, I think its strange that you didn't fix it yourself earlier."

"Great, now my babysitters are going to think I'm having an affair," She said in jest as she both glossed over his words and pointed towards said men with her thumb, "Then again, I'm pretty sure that the Quibbler has already written numerous articles claiming as much." She said with disdain and pulled a face that made her look as though she may vomit.

Draco snorted with laughter and shook his head, "Didn't they write an article about you having a supposed affair with Ginevra Potter? _And_ one that claimed you were a werewolf?"

She took a sip of her drink and nodded, "Yes and yes, but I am pretty sure that the prior was because she'd been recently hired as the sports editor of the Daily Prophet." She released her grip on the drink she held with one hand and carefully looked over her shoulder using only her eyes. Then she shook her free arm so that the wand she had been hiding up her sleeve dropped into her hand, but not far enough for it to be seen by her bodyguards. She then flicked her wrist to cast the _Muffliato_ spell before she slipped the wand back into the elasticated armband under which it had previously been affixed. "Okay, now we can definitely talk without being overheard, and they probably won't notice the buzz of this spell amongst the other conversations anyway." She then turned back to an extremely pale Draco, "What was it that you wanted to tell me so urgently?"

He looked around himself with suspicion before dropped his drink back onto the table and rolled up the left sleeve of his jacket. Upon his forearm was the evident tattoo of the Dark Mark assigned to all inner-circle Death Eaters.

"You still have that?" She asked in surprise.

"Yes, it reminds me of a darker time, and makes motivates me to be a better person," He admitted before he cleared his throat, "But that's not what its important. Since the _true_ death of Voldemort, it nearly faded into nothingness, like a red scar, but now it's black again, like it was when he was alive."

Hermione's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat.

"I know," He continued with words that tumbled from his mouth whilst beads of sweat started to form on his forehead, "and it has been _burning_, non-stop. I am being _summoned_!" He started to hyperventilate and pushed his fingers into his hair.

Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder, "Look at me," She commanded in a soft voice, "It is _impossible_ that he's back again. We destroyed _every_ fragment of his soul, there is nothing of him to come back."

Malfoy's eyes started to water, "I don't want to go back to that. I _never _want to be forced to do anything like that again."

"You won't be," She reassured him before she held the cuff of his sleeve between her fingers and pulled it back down, "Why didn't you go to someone from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? You could have gone straight to Harry for this."

"I know, I could have, but I trust you." He admitted, "I know that if I came to you with it, then you would take me seriously and wouldn't stop until you had got to the bottom of it." He then swallowed hard whilst his eyes darted back and forth over the crowd, "I also don't know who might be involved with whatever," He then gestured towards his forearm, "this is. I'm sure Harry isn't, but I don't know if anyone in the department is."

She pinched her lips together, "And you went to the top, knowing that I would have access to all the information available?"

He nodded, "You were also head of the department not long ago, so I thought you would know more about what is going on anyway."

She bit her lip and tilted her head from side-to-side, "I will do what I can, and I'll dig as deep as I dare without rousing suspicion." She squeezed the hand on his shoulder and smiled, "I promise."

"You don't have a theory as to what is causing this?" He asked as he tapped his arm again.

She sighed, "No, I don't want to hazard a guess when it is something this serious." She said before she pushed her thumb against her bottom lip, "It could be that someone has piggybacked onto the original spell that Voldemort cast however." She then furrowed her brow and pouted, "But, I honestly have no idea how that would even be possible…"

Malfoy snorted, "Wow, if Hermione Granger doesn't know how, then no one does."

She punched him on the shoulder, but managed a genuine laugh at his remark. "I honestly thought you asking to talk to talk to me about our children." She admitted in a hushed tone.

"No," He said with a disappointed sigh, "I _think_ they're doing fine together. I mean, I know that Scorpius really likes your daughter." His eyes suddenly opened wide, "Unless you know something different…"

"No, not at all." Her lips then curved into a lopsided smile, "He likes Rose, does he?"

Draco took a sip of his Butterbeer and slowly nodded, "Oh yeah, and I mean _really_ likes." He then placed his index finger to his lips, "But shh, he doesn't know that I know."

She giggled and picked up her tankard again, "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." She then winked and giggled some more, "So, what have you been doing since Hogwarts? I mean, apart from raising Scorpius, of course."

He took another sip of his drink, "Nothing that's terribly interesting if I'm honest. I've been a stay-at-home father, studying manuscripts and such…" He then ran his finger round the rim of his tankard, "I have not made something of myself the way that you have."

"You have completely turned your life around though, and you walk down the path that _you_ have chosen, despite the awful things you have been through," She cocked her head a little and smiled, "And that makes you a very strong and inspirational person." As she watched his face become slightly flushed at her compliment, she couldn't help but notice how much he had grown-up. Whenever she thought of him, she thought of the teenager that belittled other students and was torn between making his parents proud and being able to find his own path. The man that he had become was a stark contrast to that child, he was polite, understanding and accepting of all people that he had previously been 'taught' to think of as lower than him. She also couldn't help but notice that – now he had grown his hair out – he had started to resemble his father even more than he had done when he was younger.

He pushed a chunk of his white-blond hair from his face and grinned, "You haven't changed, you're still that big-hearted person who ran a campaign to free House Elves."

She clicked her tongue and pointed at him, "It was called S.P.E.W. I'll have you know, and it worked. It made the students rethink their treatment of them at least."

He nodded and slipped his fingers through the handle of the tankard in front of him. "You always have a way of making things work."

She looked down into the wooden cup in front of her and sighed whilst she thought about how she apparently couldn't make _everything_ work. No matter how much her heart longed for it. A sudden emptiness filled her gut as her thoughts consumed her.

"I knew there was something going on," He uttered in a gentle tone, "I know that we haven't always been on good terms, but I am here if you need someone to talk to." He then shrugged and bit into his lip, "I have become something of a good listener in recent years."

A tiny smile formed on her lips and she let out a heavy sigh, "Thank you, but can we talk about something else for now?"

He sat up straight and gave her a sharp nod, "Sure."

For the remainder of the night, the two of them chattered enthusiastically about everything and anything that sprung to the mind of either.

The rain had started to fall heavier and the darkness became more oppressive as the two of them finished the last drop of their Butterbeers as Hermione stood from her seat and explained that she needed to be getting home shortly. "The wizarding world isn't going to minister itself." She said in jest before she screwed her face up as she replayed her words back to herself.

Malfoy laughed at her joke, "I think someone has had too much Butterbeer." He then offered her his arm, "Allow me to walk you home?" He asked before he bit into his lip, "I mean, to the place you are going to Disapparate from."

She obliged more eagerly than she had expected she would as they both stepped out of the establishment into the night. She turned to him and tapped his bicep, "Thank you for buying me drinks, by the way."

"Anytime," He replied with a smile that was most definitely softer and kinder than any she could remember him managing before, "in fact, when we get to the bottom of whatever the source of this is, perhaps we could do this again sometime?"

She looked to the floor to hide her flushed cheeks, "Absolutely, I would like that."

The remainder of the walk was in silence until they reached the lamppost by Hogsmeade station.

"Until next time." Hermione whispered to Malfoy before she slipped her arm away from his. With that, she pulled her arm from her sleeve, waved it in a circular motion and disappeared from sight. After she had Apparated to her front garden, she placed a hand over her chest and took a deep breath as she felt her heart pound against her palm. "Be still, you stupid heart," She scolded before she took uneasy steps down the path in her front garden.


	3. Chapter 3

The streets of muggle-owned Avebury felt intimidating as Hermione Granger-Weasley walked down them. She had managed to lose her watchers back in the halls of the Ministry of Magic, but she couldn't be sure that they would remain lost. They had a way of reappearing at any given moment, and especially when she least expected it.

The dark grey skies above grumbled as thunder rolled through the black clouds as they threatened rain. A few seconds later, a flash of lightning lit up the shadowed roads and made several bystanders jump.

Hermione broke into a run as the eyes of all those around her made her feel increasingly paranoid. Any one of the people around her could have been a spy for the Ministry, sent onto the streets to watch her every move. She wrapped her arms around the paper files she held to tightly press them to her chest. Her impractical shoes made it hard to keep her balance and caused her to roll her ankle when her feet encountered a pothole. Though she fell to her knees, she managed to keep hold of her papers.

A couple of the pavement looked over to where she was knelt with raised eyebrows before they shuffled away and whispered to each other about the scene they had just witnessed.

With difficulty and pain etched upon her face, she forced herself back to her feet – despite her now injured ankle – and pushed forward towards the St. James church where she planned to Apparate from to find her way to Malfoy Manor. As she took a deep breath and saw the church come into view, she internally prayed that they weren't filming a muggle murder mystery show there. It would not do well for the secrecy of the wizarding world if a muggle film crew caught her disappearing.

Lightning cracked across the heavens once again as she stumbled forward into the grounds of the church. With another, heavy rumble, the clouds burst open and sent rain pouring down onto the head of the running woman.

"Bloody British weather," She cursed before she found her way to the back of the building. Luckily for her, the graveyard was empty with no-one to witness the magic she was about to cast. She leant forward, reached her hand up her skirt and pulled her wand from the welt at the top of her stocking and waved it in a circular motion. Her form warped and twisted as she transported herself from one space to another until she stumbled onto the gravel driveway of her destination. She winced as her ankle buckled on landing, and act which forced her to grab the hedge to her right to stabilise her. With a deep breath and a hard swallow, she continued forward down the path towards the wrought-iron gates that protected the Manor's grounds from intruders.

Said gates started to transform on her arrival until they resembled a face that looked upon her with disdain. "State your business!" It demanded in a deep, booming voice that shook the floor Hermione stood on.

She held the files close and stood tall to address the bewitched object before her. "I am here to visit Draco Malfoy. I am expected."

The face closed its eyes for a few seconds, before it opened them again before it shouted: "Entrance granted."

She walked through the open gates and forced a grimace towards it, as though to thank it for allowing her entry, and then trundled over the gravel, past the albino peacock and onwards to the front door. She raised her hand to knock on the polished wood, but it swung open inwardly before she could do so.

The hinges on the doors creaked before they slammed into the walls of the dimly lit hallway. The darkness ahead felt foreboding, but at the same time, the woman that stood on the doorstep knew that she must enter.

With echoing footsteps, she stepped inside and walked down the hall towards the bronze-handled door at the other end. She looked over her shoulder at all the pale-faced portraits that stared back.

Each one of Draco's ancestors looked at Hermione with disgust. Though she was sure none of them actual possessed the knowledge, the looks on their painted faces made her believe that they all knew – and disapproved – of her 'blood-status'.

The door she was heading towards became agape as the owner of the building pushed it from the other side. "Are you alone?" He asked as he studied the area behind her.

She nodded, "I am for now, but I don't know if they're still looking for me."

Malfoy bit his lip and tilted his head, "Fair enough," He then ushered her into the obscenely grand dining room and pulled the door to a close, "Remind me to teach you the salute for next time. It's far easier than quizzing the gate."

"I'd appreciate that," She muttered with a feeble smile before she dropped the case files onto the Malfoy's ostentatious dining table, "Is it okay for me to take my shoes off?" She asked as she gestured towards the patent heels she wore.

He cocked his brow and nodded, "Yes, that's fine."

She let out a sigh of relief and kicked said shoes off before she opened the first manila envelope. "I am going to get in so much trouble for this…" She muttered whilst she rubbed her temples.

He scoffed, "Hogwarts will always be with us, right?"

She raised her eyebrow as she turned to face him, "I was always trying to guide them onto the right path, but they never listened."

He chuckled and brushed his loose, long hair over his shoulder, "And now you are the one breaking the rules – without either of them influencing you."

Hermione placed her hand on her hip and clicked her tongue, "Do you want to know why your Dark Mark has reactivated or what?"

He cleared his throat and pulled out a chair for him to sit in, "I do, very much."

She followed his suit and took a seat beside him before she pushed a file with numerous photos of explosions in it towards him, "A few years back, the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office confiscated a whole line of mobile phones – all of which were enchanted with the Blasting Curse, _Confringo_. Needless to say, when the muggles tried to use their phones, they blew up in their faces."

A crease formed between Draco's brows as he listened to the story she told him. "What are these mobile phones?" He asked as he pointed to the moving photos of fire and smoke.

"That's unimportant," She hurriedly replied before she pulled more papers out to show him, "Here, you can see numerous cases where a muggle was used to accomplish violent acts upon other muggles whilst under the influence of _Imperio_, often resulting in the targets' deaths. They have put them down to terrorist attacks and the like thanks to our skills at the Ministry."

"And how does the muggle world affect us?" Malfoy asked, clearly frustrated.

"Because these are all organised hate crimes against the muggle community by a group of wizards." She then planted her elbows on the table and cradled her chin in her hands, "And where have we seen this before?"

He sat up straight as an epiphany struck him, "The Death Eaters," He managed to mumble in a voice thick with worry.

She placed a comforting hand on his forearm, though the next words she had to speak would offer him anything but solace, "Yes, or a new wave of them – Neo-Death Eaters, if you will." She furrowed her brow and grimaced, "Unfortunately, we have been unable to capture any of the wizard or witch perpetrators to confirm this theory. The muggles involved have, however, had their memories wiped and replaced, so they know nothing of it, but…" She stopped mid-sentence as she watched her companion's face twist in pain.

His grey eyes had started to water as they filled with an overwhelming sorrow and terror was etched into every part of his expression. "But, he is dead," He mumbled, on the verge of tears, "And not like last time. There is no chance of him returning." He continued to mumble, as though he were trying to convince himself.

Hermione moved her hand from his arm and down to hold onto his shaking fingers, "Draco, look at me," She said in a soothing tone, as she prepared to repeat the words she had said to him the last time they had met, "He fragmented his soul. There is –"

"– I know, there is nothing left of him to _be_ alive." He interjected with a wavering tone, "I just…" He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I need to take a moment." He then turned to her and squeezed her hand, "So, the long and short of it is: You couldn't actually find anything concrete."

"Not yet," She said optimistically, "but I promise you that I will do what I can to find out why your mark is doing that."

"Then I am going to pull my own weight," He announced, "If it is to do with Death Eaters again, I still have some ties to those who were left behind." He looked over his shoulder to where the hallway door remained open and his wife's portrait eyed him up suspiciously, "Astoria and I used to go to a group for those who were reformed. I could ask around with some of them, see if they know what's going on."

"Good idea," Hermione retorted with a smile on her face. As she studied Draco's face, she felt her heart leap in her chest. The palms of her hands that held his had become clammy as she started to fear the same thing that he was. The memories of the Battle of Hogwarts had come to her in her nightmares ever since she had fought amongst her friends, classmates and future family for the greater good. She could still see the monster's disturbing stare every time she closed her eyes.

Draco's hands trembled, and his breathing had become shallow as his anxiety levels peaked, but he still managed to put on a brave face for her once he noticed the fact she had become lost in a troublesome train of thought. "I have faith in you," He whispered as he bobbed his head down to look into her eyes, "I am going to do this because I know that if anyone can get to the bottom of this, then it will be you."

Her cheeks started to flush after he had complimented her, but she cleared her throat and formed a mumbled reply anyway, "Thank you." She then looked up to where the Malfoy's wall clock hung. When she saw what the time was, her breath caught in her throat. "I need to get going," She blurted as she hurriedly forced her shoes back on, left the table and headed towards the door. As she stretched her hand out to grab the bronze handle, she turned back to address her comrade, but found him fair closer than she had expected.

His nose nearly touched hers as he looked down at her surprised expression as her breath caressed his cheek. "I came to walk you out," He muttered before he swallowed hard.

She hastily nodded whilst the pounding in her chest began to override her brain's normal functionality, "Yeah, thanks." She squeaked at the same time as she pushed the door open.

The two of them walked down the hall in silence as all the portraits around them glared once again.

Hermione came to the conclusion that they hadn't previously disapproved of her, just of anything and everything that came into sight. She then stepped out onto the doorstep and sighed once she saw that the rain hadn't stopped. "I suppose I will arrive back at the Ministry of Magic in a soaked state." She grumbled to herself before she let her shoulders fall.

Draco stretched his arm out to a stand that held three umbrellas and passed one to the complaining Minister. "I can't allow that to happen."

She raised an eyebrow at the item he offered but didn't take it, instead, she pointed her want to her chest and cast the _Impervius_ spell. She took one step to the side and into the downpour that now bounced off her body with ease.

"Oh," He whimpered as he returned the item to its previous place.

"I appreciate the offer though," She chirped with a smile upon her face, "Until next time."

He suddenly shouted incoherently to grab her attention before she could leave, then threw his arm into the air when he knew that her eyes were on him, "The salute!" He blurted, "For next time, of course."

She repeated the salute and clicked her tongue, "I've got it." She then turned on her heel and strode towards the wrought-iron gates to make her exit.

Three Apparations later, Hermione found her way back to the Ministry of Magic and was instantly bombarded by the men that acted as her bodyguards.

"Minister, we have a situation that you need to be briefed on," The first, muscular man said. His black eyes narrowed before he tilted his head slightly so that the grease in his black hair shone in the building's light, "Firstly, where have you been?"

"I went home," She lied before she strode past the men that flanked her, "What do I need to be briefed on?" She continued in hopes that her rushed question would distract the man from his own.

"Stanley Shunpike's body was found last night," He said in a matter of fact tone, "In fact, it was his skeleton that was found – the body had been cannibalised."

Hermione stopped in her tracks and spun round to face the speaker, "Garm Bulstrode, is this information accurate?" When he nodded his head, her eyes grew even wider, "How do we know it is him if he was only a skeleton?"

"Because the perpetrator left his head behind."


	4. Chapter 4

Draco stood in his hallway, with the front door open, and watched as his guest disappeared through the grand gate of his estate. With a sigh, he pulled the door to a close and held the umbrella in his hand tightly.

The rain outside hammered on the doors and windows, but apart from the house's sole present inhabitant, it was the only sound that echoed throughout its vast, empty halls. To its owner, it felt like a harsh reminder of how he felt internally.

The heels of his brogues clicked against the stone floor as he took a solemn walk through the gallery of his ancestors.

Each one looked down at him inquisitively and seemingly held silent conversations with each other as he passed.

At the end of the hall – just before the archway that lead to the dining room – stood the portrait that Draco felt was the most important of all. In an ornate, silver frame, stood the canvas that bore the elegant imitation of his late wife: Astoria Malfoy.

He came to a stop in front of it and forced a feeble smile for her. "Morning, Astoria." He whispered in a hoarse voice.

She tilted her head to the side and brushed her dark hair from her face. The corner of her mouth pulled up slightly as her husband watched her intently. She looked down at her painted feet, then back up to her surveyor.

"How have you been?" He asked whilst tears stung his conjuncta. Knowing full well that he would receive no voice response from her, he continued as though he had. "I have been doing fine, considering." He mumbled, "Scorpius was very eager to get to Hogwarts this week." He sniffed and wiped face on the back of his sleeve as he started to cry, "I don't think his wanted to see his father like this." He hiccoughed whilst his bottom lip trembled. His tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he plastered his hand over his mouth a succumbed to the sorrow that her absence caused him.

The portrait stretched out her hand to him whilst her face crumpled to show a mixture of sadness and confusion. She appeared to so desperately want to comfort him, but her framed confines made sure that she could do nothing of the sort.

He took a deep breath that he hoped would steady him, before he kissed his index and middle finger and placed it on the canvas cheek of his departed wife. "I miss you," He whispered through a voice thick with tears, "So much."

Her painted hands reached up to try and touch his fingers as she smiled and closed her eyes.

The fact that he could see her make the moments to initiate contact, but could not feel her touch, just made the emptiness inside him that her death had brought feel that much greater. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be able to discuss the events that had been unfolding in his life with her. He wanted to be able to hold her, open-up his heart and spill its contents for her, but he knew that he would never be able to do that again. He would never be able to kiss her the way that he yearned to, his son would never be able to have his mother at his wedding, or to have her present for the birth of his first child. No matter what joys or sorrows life were to throw at the future Malfoys, they would have to endure them alone – and without the presence of Astoria.

With a heavy heart, he turned away from the acrylic imitation of his lover and continued his journey towards the back door of his manor.

The sky above the Malfoy Manor's garden was covered with angry, black clouds that rumbled with thunder whilst they continued to empty their contents on anything and everything beneath it.

Draco looked up at it and muttered under his breath. He then opened his umbrella and started walking down the garden's gravel path. Due to the heavy rain, its normal crunch had become an uncomfortable squelch under his feet.

The usually beautiful, twisting hedges that lined the path had become overgrown and soggy. Since the beginning of Astoria's illness – and her subsequent death – he had been unable to find the time or motivation to prune them as he usually would. Instead, he had left the gardens to their own devices and had become wild. Some of the more exotic plants that required 'special' diets had neglected to be fed in a while, so they were to be avoided at all costs.

After half an hour of walking through the makeshift maze that was behind the Malfoy Manor, Draco came to a stop outside a small garden in front of a cottage situated in the far corner of the grounds. Unlike the rest of the vegetation, the cottage garden was well taken care of and lush, and all the garden furniture was pristine.

The blond man careful walked up the sodden steps, then knocked on the oak door.

A few seconds later, a familiar face opened the door. "Son?" Lucius Malfoy asked as he looked down at his soaked son.

"Hello, father," He replied in a meek tone, "Can I come in?"

The older man took a step back and gestured towards the room behind him to invite his son inside.

He sent Lucius a sharp nod, then walked past him after he had put down the soggy umbrella he was holding and set it down in the empty space beside the door.

In an armchair by the living room's fire sat his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, who didn't bother to look up from her knitting when she addressed him, "Morning, son."

"Good morning, mother," He replied matter-of-factly before he turned his attention to his other parent, "I don't mean to be rude, but I came here to speak to you, father."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose at his words but did not bother to give him a worded response.

Lucius raised his eyebrows at his son's request, then opened the door at the base of the stairs and gestured for him to go upstairs.

Once they were both in the study, and the door had been shut, Draco turned on his heel dramatically and blurted the question he had been dying to ask his father. "Has your mark become active again?" He asked in desperation.

He looked down at his son and furrowed the brow of his lightly wrinkled face, "What are you talking about?" He snapped, "This is no time for childish antics."

Draco rolled his eyes and grimaced, "I am nearly forty! When will you stop calling anything inconvenient that I do 'childish antics'?" He enquired.

"When they stop being such," He replied bluntly whilst he admired his nails, "Now, honestly, why are you here?"

The younger man pulled the sleeve of his jacket up hastily to show his father the black, pulsating Dark Mark on his arm. "I meant what I said," He spat as the burning in his arm intensified, "Is your mark doing _this_?"

Lucius' mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide as he could barely believe what he was witnessing. He grabbed his son's forearm and pulled it closer to thoroughly inspect it. "I had mine removed," He muttered whilst he remained fascinated, "When did this start?"

"A couple of weeks ago," Draco admitted, "I've been trying to ignore it, but the pain is becoming unbearable." He gritted his teeth, "I have someone looking into it for me –"

"– Who?!" His father interjected in a panicked tone.

"Someone I trust," He snapped back, "but the main thing I wanted to ask was –"

"– Its not him." Lucius stated with confidence, interrupting his son once again, "We witnessed his demise, his disintegration." He then looked back up to his son momentarily with a stern expression, "It wouldn't have been burning for two weeks if it were _him_. You were _forced _to be by his side. He would have found you by now." He studied the mark again and traced his finger over the raised lines of the tattoo before he quickly withdrew it with a grimace, "No, this is a hijacking." He muttered before he released his son's forearm, "It feels as though your arm is on fire." He pressed his thumb to his chin and pinched his lips together, "This is someone piggybacking onto the spell – a powerful wizard, no doubt – but a piggyback all the same." He started to pace back and forth before he collapsed into the chair at his desk, "But why would someone want to _summon_ former Death Eaters?" He questioned whilst he brushed his white-streaked blond hair behind his ears, "Most of us were condemned for our crimes, killed or reformed…" He placed his hand on his forehead and sighed, "I'm too old to deal with this again."

"None who suffered it the first time wishes to go through it again," Draco whispered once he'd swallowed back bile. "Father, I admit, I am petrified."

Lucius looked his son up and down as he rubbed his temple, "I'd noticed." He then let out a frustrated grumble and shook his head, "As am I." He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles cracked whilst he gritted his teeth, "I no longer have the contacts," He muttered under his breath, "I can't try to weasel information out of people anymore."

"But I can." Draco stated as he leant against his father's desk, "Astoria and I ran the help group for reformed ex-Death Eaters, remember?"

His father simply raised an eyebrow and steepled his hands but said nothing.

"I have a meeting tomorrow evening, I thought I would try and communicate with them about –"

Before he could finish, Lucius snorted loudly and shook his head.

Draco breathed deeply through his nose and pinched his lips together, "What?" He snapped in an indignant manner, "Do you think they don't trust me? That they won't offer assistance to the man that offered them a safe place to discuss their crimes and regrets?"

The older man shook his head and sat back in his chair, "No, I just think it is a futile effort," He raised his hand as his son opened his mouth to protest, "Not because they won't talk to you at these… Mushy, touchy-feely meetings you're holding..."

His son's face crumpled in disgust at the dismissive words he always used when his support group was concerned, but he chose to remain silent and let the other man continue his speech.

"I simply mean that the people you deal with won't have had any knowledge to begin with. You deal with, what, low-level Death Eaters and Snatchers at best? These were people _He_ didn't even deem worthy to mark – some of them weren't even given the title of Death Eater, he considered them so lowly." Lucius rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, "They were some of the poorest informed people you could converse with when it came to _His_ plans." He rubbed the back of his neck and spat through his teeth: "Most of the people who knew _anything_ are either dead or in Azkaban, so it would be difficult to talk to any of them..."

"If they hadn't had been such bastards, then they might not be."

Lucius looked over to where Draco stood with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. After a few seconds of contemplation, he started to chuckle under his breath and a smile actually touched his lips, "Touché," He declared before his shoulders started to shake with chortles. He then wiped his eyes with the back on his hand and sighed, "I will still try and do what I can," He uttered as his tone snapped back to its previous, serious state after his seemingly jovial outburst, "I am sure that you have your investigation under control with the help of…" He then waved his hand towards Draco in an attempt to coax the name out of him.

"Someone I trust, greatly." He retorted as he refused to give him anymore information than he already had.

His father shook his head and clicked his tongue, "With their help." He mumbled as a wry smile played on the corner of his mouth, "But I still want to do my bit. I know there is no love-loss between us, considering our chequered past, but I intend to do my best to build as many bridges to you as I can."

Draco stood up straight and started to walk past his father, before he placed a hand on the seated man's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, "If you can build this one, I think we shall be on the road to recovery." Then, without another word, he continued out of the room and back down the cottage stairs and towards the large front room that served as the living room, kitchen and dining room all-in-one. When he was a child, he would run into the cottage and enthusiastically greet his grandparents whenever he could, it was a place that held numerous fond memories, despite the darkness that soon followed thereafter. Despite the fact they had lived there a little over two decades, he still found it strange that he should walk in and find _his _parents in his grandparents' home and watch his mother knit in the same chair he had so often seen his grandmother do exactly the same.

"You're staring, Draco." Narcissa stated from said armchair. She had her elbow rested upon the padded arm and her chin against her balled fist, "Lost in contemplation?"

He swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes," He admitted in a hoarse voice, "Of things that have been, and things I have to do."

"And of women?" She enquired. When he son looked visibly shocked by the question, she smirked and shook her head, "I am not as oblivious to your actions as you think."

He planted his hands on his hips and sighed as he pouted and looked up towards the stair he had just descended with narrowed eyes.

"Your father knows too," She said as a response to his silent enquiry, "If he asked who it was, he simply wanted you to confirm it." She then shook her head, clicked her tongue and chuckled, "You have made it seem awful suspicious."

"She and I are meeting for the same reason I want to meet with father." He retorted defensively.

She sat back in her cushion chair with a raised eyebrow as she remained seemingly unconvinced.

"Honestly." He continued, though his face started to feel increasingly warm the longer Narcissa maintained her gaze.

"I am simply trying to look out for my only son," She replied in a soft tone, "As a recent widower, you are vulnerable right now, and some people might take advantage of that."

"Hermione would never –"

"I am fully aware that she would not," She interjected, though her tone remained unchanged, "Becoming involved with the Minister of Magic is danger at the best of times, believe me, I should know." Before Draco could press her further on her statement, she waved his enquiry away, "Though I am aware that this relationship is platonic in nature, if it were not – and she were not already married – I would grant you my blessing anyway."

He stumbled as the surprise that came with her statement hit him. "You would, really?"

She nodded, "You forget that I risked my life to protect that of the boy you self-declared as your nemesis at Hogwarts. I am hardly going to interfere with your happiness purely because of one's birth. I have progressed from that."

He looked down at the floor, somewhat taken aback by his mother's words – but most certainly because he had expected a backlash from his actions. Even as an adult, Draco Malfoy seemed to feel like – on the inside – he was the teenage boy who had to enact the tasks he had been set and behave in a certain manner to please his parents and the people around him. "Thank you." He managed to whimper before he turned on his heel to leave, "I am terribly sorry for the abruptness of this, but I have preparations to make."

"That is fine," She replied as she reached down into the knitting bag beside her to retrieve her latest project, "Just remember that we are always close at hand, and I shall always be here for you."

His mouth managed to form a small smile of gratitude before he pulled the wooden door open and walked out into the maze that was the estate gardens once more.

The following evening, Draco walked down a dimly-lit street in a rundown neighbourhood with an armful of clipboards and information for the people who would be waiting for him in their usual meeting place. He arrived at what looked like a run down, damp-ridden and condemned warehouse that the council hadn't got around to pulling down yet, but anyone with the flare for magic would know that it was so much more. With a simple wave of his wand, the dilapidated building turned into a pristine, brick palace fit for even then snobbiest of wizards and witches. The blond man smirked and clicked his tongue, "Not too bad, even if I do say so myself." He then grasped the red door's golden knob firmly and pushed it open to reveal a plush and welcoming navy carpet adorned with a number of equally well-dressed people upon it.

The first of whom to notice Draco's presence was none other than the ex-Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse. He brushed his long, peppered black hair from his face and straightened his midnight blue suit before he strode over to the younger man, "Malfoy, I have something to discuss with you that is of the utmost importance."

He turned around to face the tall, slender man and gave a short laugh, "Strangely enough, so do I. In fact, it is something that I think I need to talk to the whole group about." He then peered around his friend and tilted his head, "Where's Stan today? I particularly wanted to see him."

"So, you haven't heard the tragic news?"

Draco's face fell and his brow furrowed as he looked at the forlorn expression of the man in front of him, "Tragic?" He placed the papers he held on the table behind him and stood to his full height, "What are you referring to?"

"Stan's body was found last night," Thicknesse replied in a sombre tone, "He's been murdered."


End file.
